


Perfect Pest

by deathwailart



Series: Ghillie Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M, Reading, Teasing, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian tries to get some reading done and Lavellan is something of a thorn in his side and a pain in his arse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Pest

Dorian Pavus heaves a sigh as though he is the most put-upon man in all of Thedas or at the very least this side of Tevinter. Ghillie Lavellan, First of clan Lavellan, herald of Andraste and inquisitor smirks and settles himself comfortably, stretching his legs.  
  
"You really are the perfect pest aren't you?" Dorian comments dryly, not even bothering to look at Ghillie.  
  
"At least you know I'm perfect."  
  
Dorian sighs again. "An absolute pest. And a menace. You should be ashamed."  
  
Ghillie just snorts, closing his eye and listening to the rustle of a page turning, folding his arms beneath his head. It's the most comfortable he's been in a while if he's perfectly honest.  
  
"Remove your foot or I will remove it for you."  
  
"I get just as excited about books as you but Dorian, please, I don't want to go get more candles, I think I'm at the point where if I run down again Solas is going give me his and probably give me some sort of speech."  
  
"I'm almost done."  
  
"You said that an hour ago and an hour before that." Ghillie sighs, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if he'd be allowed to start painting some constellations up there if given the chance. Maybe when it's all over. "I thought you liked this."  
  
"When I said I liked your legs over my shoulders, I meant it very differently."  
  
"Picky picky," Ghillie mutters and pokes Dorian's cheek with a toe.  
  
"You are on the thinnest ice." He pokes him again, this time with the other foot. "I will throw you into a bog."  
  
"You wouldn't do that, you despair at my clothing enough as it is some days. Did you know I used to splash and roll about in them as a child? Like a dog."  
  
Dorian gives a shudder that's only partly exaggeration. "Please. I've had to read this sentence five times."  
  
"Why is it when I'm doing important reading so late that you get to throw the book away-"  
  
"I would _never_ throw a book!" Dorian pauses to consider it though. "Well, maybe some of your dry dusty studies on which Divine liked marmalade and which one was a little too fond of her sherry."  
  
"I apologise, that was uncalled for."  
  
Dorian nods, trying to shrug Ghillie's feet off. "I did expect far better behaviour from the First to a Keeper. Propriety. Patience. Wanting others to learn." Ghillie lets out a long raspberry. "No?"  
  
"Solas wouldn't know but there's lots of naked dancing and taking mushrooms and getting very very drunk and giggly."  
  
"Really?" Dorian sounds intrigued and well, he's overheard a few conversations between him and Solas and it's fun to tease.  
  
"No. There's some awful tea, this weird sort of purple honey in it and meditation and rituals but less dancing and more...swaying? I'd need to demonstrate and you're so engrossed in your book."  
  
"As enticing as it sounds, I really should finish this."  
  
"I am bereft, I cannot go on," there's a dramatic sigh that escapes him as he throws a hand over his eyes. "Replaced by a book, by some dusty old tome about old dead men – I know you're a necromancer Dori-"  
  
It's as far as Ghillie gets before Dorian tickles his foot, Ghillie almost kicking him in his struggle to get away as he practically shrieks.  
  
"Oh? So the inquisitor has ticklish footsies? How intriguing." Dorian has finally turned to look at him and everyone was right, he is a wicked man from Tevinter and Ghillie is very, _very_ afraid.  
  
"Dorian please no."  
  
"What a shame if others were to know. 'Corypheus, my good man, as a fellow native of Tevinter and from whom I might possibly descend from, I would like to hand victory to you upon a silver platter'," Dorian begins but at least he's marked the place and closed his book, "'I have discovered the weakness of the inquisitor, simply remove his boots – I will be quite happy to assist and retreat – and tickle them playfully'."  
  
"You wouldn't."  
  
There's a warning wiggling of fingers and Ghillie plants his feet flat on the bed, tucking them close so they'll be safe. "Is the threat enough to make you behave?"  
  
"You are a wicked man."  
  
"And you love it."  
  
"I do." So with a sigh he pushes himself upright and drags the blankets with him to wrap around Dorian and himself, his cheek resting on his shoulder. He's tired enough that the words blur so Dorian reads aloud to him, that rich rolling accent soothing and Ghillie squirms close enough that Dorian lifts his arm to tuck him in at his side. It really is an interesting book but still, it's late and as much as Ghillie loves having a huge library and the ability to just pick up a book or have one delivered, he wants to actually do something else this evening when they're back at Skyhold for the first time in a while.  
  
"And with that, I'm done. See how much easier it is when you play along?"  
  
"That would be so very dull and you'd hate that."  
  
"I know," Dorian agrees with relish and at _last_ closes the book for good, moving to set it on Ghillie's desk with a smile. "Now, if there's something else you'd rather get up to..."  
  
He laughs as Ghillie lunges forward to grab Dorian's hand to pull him onto the bed, landing heavily before Ghillie guides them both up the bed.  
  
"I suppose what I have in mind won't be to your tastes tonight?" Ghillie says as innocently as possible as Dorian starts to unbutton his shirt.  
  
"Oh? And what would that be?" Dorian is distracted when he replies, more interested in the way Ghillie gasps when he pushes the garment back and off, thumbs brushing over his nipples, a light touch but there's intent behind it.  
  
"No, no, you made your position on my legs over your shoulders quite clear."  
  
"Festis bei umo canavarum." It's muttered under Dorian's breath as he shakes his head and stares down at Ghillie who wears an impish grin and is currently trying to wriggle his arms out of his sleeves since Dorian seems to have abandoned actually helping him with the process.  
  
"You always say the nicest things."  
  
Dorian shuts him up with a kiss. Probably for the best.


End file.
